


We are the dying ones

by spiteandmalice



Category: These Are Not the Trinity Papers - Vale Zalecki
Genre: First Time, M/M, mentions of canon injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiteandmalice/pseuds/spiteandmalice
Summary: A snapshot of the time Isaac and Elias spent at Dominic's.
Relationships: Isaac Beringer/Elias Cohen
Kudos: 9





	We are the dying ones

**Author's Note:**

> I read 'These Are Not The Trinity Papers' by Vale Zalecki last November in one sitting, until 2am.
> 
> Bits of the story got lodged in my brain, so this is my attempt at exorcism.

Dominic's goons close the door behind Isaac and he hovers in the doorway for a moment, eyes adjusting to the darkness. It might be noon outside for all he knows, but here it's dark,  _ like a tomb, a womb _ , he thinks - _ cradle to the grave. _

He flicks the desk lamp on to reveal Elias is on the bed, sprawled out atop of the sheets. He stirs in the light, tensing as if he’s going to dragged away again for more torture.

“It’s just me.”

Elias relaxes, reaches out his good hand and Isaac goes.

Nothing’s changed since the night before, and nothing’s been said, but they both move together, press their bodies together, shuffle clothing out of the way like it had been planned.

It's easy, too easy, to press against him, they move together like it's the hundredth time, not the first, and Elias sighs into Isaac's mouth, then arches his throat so Isaac can kiss it, taste his sweat ( _ fearpain painfear _ ).

Isaac thinks of the laws of motion, of Newton's cradle, of how his perfectly his cock nudges against the dip of one of Elias's hips and how exact Elias’s fits into his hand, of the coefficients of friction and then Elias is coming, his good fingers digging into Isaac’s back and Isaac falls over the edge too, stardust exploding behind his eyes. 

Elias looks up at him with his one eye, and smiles, and Isaac has no idea how he can smile, not here, not now, not after everything that has happened and everything to come.

He tugs the sheets over their bodies and half-off clothing and lets Elias lean back against his body, tucks his legs against his own and holds him, feels his chest expand and contract under his hands, proving he’s still alive.

Isaac finds himself half singing, half muttering lyrics into Elias’s ear, and Elias hums along.

_ All you need is love _

_ All you need is love _

_ All you need is love, love _

_ Love is all you need _

Elias chokes out a laugh at the end and sings back: "  _ 'Love is just a game' _ " voice low and smoky from screaming

“What’s that from?” 

“It’s a duet in  _ Moulin Rouge _ .” 

“...I think I saw that.” It was in another life, when he and Anna were first dating, a mid-priced pasta meal for two, then the cinema, brief kiss at the door.

“Mm.”

He'd never held Anna like this, had slept next to her for decades without anything more than a brief cuddle, a small concession to loneliness and needing human touch, Selene sitting on his pillow above his head, her gray soft tail swishing onto his face

He wishes Elias had met her. Maybe she'd be friends with Coffee and Gogo. 

Wishes he’d met Anna. Maybe they could all live together. 

Maybe they’d all die, together. He could hold both Anna and Elias’s hands when it happened.

This, whatever  _ this  _ was, lying here in the semi-darkness, imprisoned, bodies slick and wet, air smelling of cum and fear and blood was a thousand, no, a  _ million  _ miles from what it would have been if he’d ever made love to Anna in their big bed, that Uncle Stefan had carved so, so long ago, the month before his hand had come off.

Isaac holds Elias until he sleeps, then he rises to take a piss and clean them both up. He wipes Elias down with a soft, damp cloth, like Isaac's own mother used to do when he had a fever. Elias stirs, but doesn't wake. Good, he needs his strength.

He returns to the bathroom. Isaac's left his glasses by the bed, so his reflection in the mirror is blurry, looking like a creature, one of Elias's fleshbags, rather than Isaac Beringer, real human being.

Whatever that meant anymore.

When he returns to the bedroom he turns the light off. No point having it disturb Elias's sleep, as fitful as it will be with his injuries.

No point leaving the light on, when darkness has already come for them.


End file.
